The Connection
by freebird2992
Summary: Their meeting was more than a coincidence. It was built on strategy and cunning set by people who only wanted to reach out. Royai


**Hooray another story! Please read, review and enjoy! **

**I own nothing of FMA, I just like making stories about them.**

* * *

**The Connection**

...

When everything is just on the edge of ending, there is a blissful silence that wraps around you like a warm blanket in the winter. All around him he felt eyes scanning up and down his body, searching for life in the features of a dying man. Waiting for that moment when he would draw his last mortal breath. He wasn't going to lie about it; he was sad. He wasn't scared that the roaring darkness of death would take him, or even angry that it was his time too soon. He was just sad. That was all. Sad that he had wasted precious time away from everything that he loved and that he almost lost once.

His thumb absently rubbed across knuckles that grasped his scrawny hands where purple veins pushed out under his skin. He took that small comfort and felt the corners of his mouth turn up, fully content with the company present.

In another life he probably wouldn't have had this on his deathbed. He counted his lucky stars that this wasn't the case, continuing to lightly rub across the hand that squeezed back followed by her choked sob that echoed in a foggy world his mind kept drifting towards.

Randomly, without invitation, an image came to his mind that he had long ago forgotten. Even in the state that he was in now, the old man knew how one's life could flash before their eyes. It was common knowledge and he had often wondered in his early days of sickness when that would happen to him. He expected to have memories when he was a young man in the military, or when he lived with his parents and was just a baby. But no, that wasn't the case. He should've learned by now, even on his deathbed, that life would present to him strange occurrences and misgivings.

So on his deathbeds, surrounded by loved ones, his old memory started to tic and turn towards an old window. Not too long ago, the hand that held onto another's lovingly held a shot glass that slammed on an old bar.

….

_~thirty years earlier~_

"I have just about had it!" Grumman slammed down the glass on the counter and eyed the witching woman that just raised an eyebrow at him while holding her own glass inches from her lips.

"And here I thought you were better than that," she smiled and gave a wink before filling her glass up again. "Come on have another."

"Oh no, no, Madame. Don't think you can sway me even under the influence." Although he meant to sound put together and gentlemanly in his military blue, the words that passed his lips slurred together and his mouth tasted like hot cotton. He smiled sheepishly at his old friend who only rolled her eyes at him and took a swig from her glass. "Suit yourself." Grumman inwardly grimaced when she took his fill as well and absently kicked himself. Why did he ever challenge a bartender at a drinking game?

Grumman shook his head dizzily at his own ridiculousness and smiled up at his old friend. "So, how've you been, Madame?"

"Oh nothing more than usual," she chuckled lightly.

The two of them, for as far back as Grumman could remember, had been friends for the longest time. The both of them were old drinking buddies who could never pass up the chance to share a drink and tell a story about their lives. Their friends and associates who knew the both of them very well could never fathom how a high-ranking military man was acquainted with a manager of a burlesque bar. Tales and rumors were twined on how they were ex-lovers who shared short amounts of time together or how one was bribing the other with vital information. That wasn't the case for them. No. They just liked to drink together; simple as that. Maybe they exchanged services of information gathering in with suspicious characters, but their friendship was solely based on who can best who at drinking.

It was the perfect relationship between the man and woman.

Madame took another helping of the thick liquid and downed it scarily before Grumman could even blink. "Roy boy was asking for you today," she set her glass down and rested her chin on her hand. "You apparently owe him a game of chess?"

Grumman rubbed his forefinger across a cup ring, "send my apologies to him when he wakes up tomorrow, I was busy all day with paperwork. I'll try and see him, if not tomorrow, then the next."

Madame nodded and was distracted by an approaching customer asking for another round of beer. Young Roy Mustang had not been living with Madame for too long. It was only a year and a half ago that she mentioned to Grumman how her deceased half-brother's son (err something) had recently been killed in a car accident and left her his son. She was beside herself, she could keep girls in working order and play men like an old fiddle, but little boys were not her forte. She was practically begging him to help her with this lost child. So Grumman took it upon himself to visit as often as he could. He taught the boy chess, who was surprisingly good at it, and he also shared with him old glory stories of himself in his younger days in the military. It entertained little Roy. And Grumman, who was never given a chance to have his own son, doted on Roy.

Madame straightened the lever on the beer tap expertly before the white forth spilled over the gilded ridge of the glass, ringing the bell twice one of her girls came over and picked up the tray before she returned her full attention back to her old friend.

"You know, Roy boy has taken up a new interest these days."

Grumman didn't miss a beat with the subtle undertone of her voice. "Oh?" He leaned his own head onto his hand giving his best poker face to the best of his abilities. He was, after all, a chess master, not a card player.

Madame grunted positively, "yes. He likes to draw little circles on the floor and slam his hands into them expecting something to happen." Her eyes narrowed at him, mourning her mahogany floorboards, "right around the time you told him about the State Alchemists." Grumman visibly sucked in a breath to which she ignored, "now that's quite a coincidence, isn't it?"

He recalled, correctly, of relaying some stories to Roy about the State Alchemists with their strange powers over matter; the heroes and the traitors that seemingly ran the military who had recently taken up an interest in the art for the last couple of decades. But now Grumman could remember how wide and awed Roy looked when Grumman shared those stories with the young lad. And again, he kicked himself, remembering how he had shared the State Alchemists motto with Roy that possibly gave him the drive for his new found hobby; "_be thou for the people_."

It was a heroism-glorifying story. Grumman realized with a pang, while Madame cut her accusing glare at him that might have to pay for any damage in her home brought on by the boy's attempt at alchemy.

"Forgive me, Madame, I was only tickling the boy's fantasy of modern day heroes in the military."

She grunted at his remark, "and you chose alchemists? I'm surprised. Ruined furniture aside I thought you didn't even like the bunch." She jabbed a finger at his side, but thankfully kept her mouth shut after that. He knew what she wanted to say. She knew that if she openly said it that it would tear him apart.

However, he refused to cry. He may be slightly buzzed, but by god he was no sad drunk to pity over. Especially in _her_ bar.

"It's not that I don't like them." His eyes fell into his unsteady reflection in his mug, "it's that they don't like me."

Madame dropped her hand and crossed it into her arms while studying her old friend. She knew the story as much as he told her. Grumman's daughter, Rianna, never approved of her father's works in the military. The rift between father and daughter was evident all through her childhood after his wife had died. But to the best of his abilities, Grumman tried. He really tried. He wanted to have a good relationship with his daughter; his only child. But that rift grew ever larger as the years and resentment went by and seemed to solidify and final when she met and married an alchemist whose resentment fed into Rianna cutting off from her father completely. Grumman would later find out that Rianna had died prematurely of a rolling sickness in the countryside that claimed many lives and was untreatable. It was a long time before Grumman left his house after that. And even longer for him to speak before breaking down into tears.

Madame realized her mistake too late and tried to apologize before Grumman lifted his hand in acceptance. "It's alright, Madame. I am sorry about your furniture. I'll pay for that if it's any trouble."

"No," she waved her hand at him and lit a cigarette. "Let Roy dream of being an alchemist. It'll be good for him."

He nodded in silent agreement and turned his attention back to his mug before taking another sip. They sat together in silence for a while. Drinking it in like nobody's business. Until Grumman spoke up and gave his first incoherent thought of the evening that made Madame worry for her old friend for the first time that night.

"They had a daughter you know."

"Hmm?"

"Riza. They had a daughter and named her Riza." Grumman pushed his glass away, knowing if he had more then he would spill more about his sad life. "My granddaughter."

Madame studied her friend before confiscating his glass, acknowledging his wish of keeping his dignity that evening. But the words kept flowing, although no tears were produced. So visibly he kept his cool while he let his words flow from his lips.

"My son-in-law forbade me to ever meet her. I have no idea if she even knows that I exist." Regret leaked from his words and pierced Madame deeply.

….

When the lights were out at the old establishment, the real work began. Madame called a couple girls around her and gave a few short directions. She ended the meeting and wished her girls luck before they left. Holding a shot glass to the dimmed lights of the bar she made a small toast to her skilled spies and brought the drink to her lips. She slammed it down and relished from the crystalline crack of glass.

She usually didn't do this. She didn't do freebies for anybody, not even family or close friends. But seeing her old friend, usually jovial and quick witted with a joke, break under the sensitive issue of his daughter broke her heart. Hearing him mention his granddaughter, Riza, solidified her decision.

…..

_~Six months later~_

It was a little bit over six months, more than she would've liked to have admitted. But it gave her more than enough to time to figure out the perfect formulae for her scheme and how to execute it flawlessly. All she really needed before she started was his approval.

That shouldn't be too hard.

And the perfect opportunity was right now, as Roy collected his chess pieces and begged Madame to stay up later to play with Grumman.

"Oh no, it's off to bed with you young man."

"But, Madame, the night is still young, one game couldn't hurt." He gave one of his dashing smiles up to his foster mother who scoffed it off immediately. She taught him how to do that; he should know that it would never work on her. Who the hell did he think he was dealing with?

"Madame is right boy," Grumman patted his shoulder and gave a wink. "Early to bed and early to rise like my father used to say."

After their goodnights and Roy was sent to his room with his lights turned off, Madame instantly grabbed two glasses from the bar shelf and filled them with honey-colored scotch before offering the glass to Grumman who accepted with thanks.

"Grumman, I have a proposition for you."

He took a swig of the delectable drink before answering her with intrigue. Her propositions always lead to some of their more stimulating assignments.

This was not lost on Madame Christmas; leader of the most elaborate system of information gathering on par even with the military intelligence.

"Roy boy still holds an interest with that alchemy crap you told him about."

Grumman only nodded his head. It was still a touchy subject with him but she ignored it. "He's in need of a teacher then since he hasn't let up. And I'd rather him be taught how to do it properly then running into the subject blind."

Grumman nodded but eyed his friend suspiciously. What was she getting at with him? "So what's your proposition?"

Madame only smiled with a lit cigarette pressed between her teeth and let the smoke billow from between her lips. She caught more than his attention now. "Well it just so happens that I did find a teacher for Roy who can teach him alchemy." She took a long sip from her glass before refilling it again with scotch and holding her all-knowing smile. "Of course that would mean my Roy boy would have to go and live with his teacher in the country as the man does not make the commute to Central (or anywhere out of that small town for that matter). In any case, he's going off to study alchemy."

Grumman raised his eyebrows and stroked the stubble on his chin trying to paint a picture of what Madame was letting on; it drew a blank on him. "Do you need to borrow money for this teacher?"

"Why, Grumman, you insult me!" She wove her arms up in the air playfully and let the back of her hand rest on her forehead dramatically. In all honesty, although she would never admit it to anybody, not even Grumman, she was rolling in dough. Money was not a problem with her. Had that fate have been reversed maybe she would've been a bit put off by what Grumman said, but thankfully that wasn't the case. Grumman held both of his hands up playfully but felt the stab of regret on having thought Madame would stoop so low as to ask him for money. She had too much pride in her to do that.

Oh little did he know.

"Then pray tell, Madame, what is your proposition?"

"The teacher's name is Hawkeye," she snubbed her cigarette into an ashtray without looking at Grumman, knowing that understanding would dawn on him. "Maybe Roy can learn all that he can from the man and could keep an eye out for his daughter as well."

Madame stole a glance at the man and bit the inside of her cheek trying to withhold the giddiness that built up in her by that one look. "What was her name again?"

For a moment, Grumman didn't answer. He stared open-mouthed at Madame for a long while making her feel uncomfortable. He finally stammered out, "Riza." She smiled at her old friend who mirrored the same expression.

"Right. How about my son keeps an eye on your granddaughter?"

….

Roy was in a whirlwind. There were a lot of momentous firsts accomplished this week.

First, he bested Grumman at chess, one of their last games before he was being sent to learn alchemy in the countryside. He was honestly surprised by that. Not that getting an alchemic teacher was surprising for him, no, Madame was hinting at it for a while with her all-knowing smirks and her cryptic way of speaking. It was like figuring out what people got you for your birthday before unwrapping the gift. It was a mystery he could easily solve. He was more surprised that he actually won a chess game against the old man. He was too lively and excited to focus too much on the game. Grumman probably lost on purpose like most adults did to boost a kid's ego.

Whatever. He won.

Another of his firsts was riding the train alone. He was only ten, but he was very small for his age. Any kidnapper could easily swipe him up and take him away, but the enthusiasm and excitement fueled him and stood strong against any self-doubt. He was finally going to learn alchemy, under the tutelage of a renowned alchemist too humble to go public with his work. That's all he needed to know at the time and that was all that drove him to bravely step on the train and wave goodbye to Madame, Grumman, and an assortment of his "sisters."

He would've thought that it strange when he asked Grumman to take him to meet his teacher that Grumman instantly refused and claimed he was busy at work. If he was older and had his skills more honed, he could pick up on that lie with great ease. But he was still quite young. He had years to practice reading people. But Grumman did make Roy promise to write as often as he could. He agreed enthusiastically. He wanted to tell them everything he would learn from his new master.

So Roy bounced up and down on his seat and watched as passing gray concrete turned into ruby swirled trees whizzing past the glass. When his final stop was announced, Roy practically bolted from his seat and grasped his bag white-knuckled before heading off the transportation.

He was instructed to meet his new teacher at his house. Roy had no idea what a long trek it would actually take to get there. Not to mention two seasons worth of clothes weighing down in his large suitcase that he lugged beside him. Up a hill. On an unpaved road. Dear god. No matter, he was off to meet his new alchemy master.

Finally, the house was in sight. It was a large two story stone building that spoke a story of old aristocracy in its earlier days. Now it stood alone among the trees dissolving in red and haloed by a cloudy sky kissed by sunlight. It could definitely use a new paint job, Roy realized as he walked closer. But it was beautiful in its own way.

He knocked on the door, his fingers twisting and untwisting a strap on his bag to settle some nerves sparking fear that just so suddenly decided to appear without his permission. Now was not the time. When nothing happened, he tried again. This time, his knuckles beat a bit harder on the wood hoping that he didn't climb all the way up that hill for nothing. On the other side of the door, he could hear echoes of footsteps indicating someone approaching. Until finally the brass knob on the door twisted and cracked the door open to reveal a little mop of blonde hair and quizzical brown eyes stare up at him.

It was a small little girl, shockingly small. Her bony fingers clung to the door to support herself as she stood on her tiptoes to appear taller. Roy took in her appearance and suddenly felt taller despite even his own small height. Compared to him, this little girl could be a doll. Her small voice was barely a whisper, but it seemed to match with her stature tremendously. "Yes?"

Giving one of his dashing smiles he'd picked up while spying on male customers at Madame's bar, he said "hello, my name is Roy Mustang. I'm here to learn alchemy from Master Hawkeye." Without missing a beat, the young girl raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry; he is not taking in any students." She made to close the door but Roy shot his hand out and cried out slightly when the door squeezed against his fingers. He did not come all the way here for a mistake! "Excuse me," he tried again. "But is this not the Hawkeye Estate?"

"It is."

"Well, Master Hawkeye is expecting me. He's supposed to teach me alchemy." He tried desperately to push on the door but the girl annoyingly held firm. "Well I am sorry, but he is not expecting anybody and does not like to be disturbed in his study. Goodbye."

She began to close the door again but to Roy it was like closing a door on everything with him. In a moment, his confusion shifted to desperation. "Wait, no! You don't underst-"

"Riza!"

From where Roy stood on the stoop, he could see the young girl flinch. A new foreign voice boomed over their heads as a new set of feet started towards the door. The little girl, who he guessed was named Riza, turned her head away from Roy into the abysmal dark of the house. He couldn't see the wave of anxiety that spread across her facial features that instantly dissipated into a more neutral expression.

"What is that incessant noise? How am I to work like this if you can't keep it down?" Riza let go the door making it swung more open for Roy to see an older man with long blonde hair greased to one side stalk down the stairs glaring menacingly at the two children with bags smudged underneath his eyes. Roy involuntarily stepped back but noted how Riza stood stalk still. His ego would not allow him to be beat by a girl. He solidified his stance and glanced up imagining himself bigger than this new stranger.

The man had his eyes set on Riza as he walked up towards the door. It wasn't until he was only a step or two away from them that he indicated his eyes towards the newcomer. Roy stood his ground and broadened his shoulders the way he had seen soldiers do in Central whenever a general walked by them.

"Riza," he barked, "who is this?"

Riza was looking down at the ground while he spoke to her, but at the question her eyes darted to Roy, "this is Roy Mustang." Roy blinked at her, but stopped himself remembering that he did introduce himself as thus.

"So you're the new student then?" Roy, regrettably, flinched at the acidic tones of the older man. Riza, who stood just to the side, looked up at the man before staring back at Roy with her eyes widened like saucers. When Roy nodded his head in agreement, the man gave a sneer. This was, Roy later figured, his best attempt at smiling at his new apprentice. Something that he would take a short time in getting used to and find familiarity in the later years under his wing.

"Well Roy Mustang," he snapped his fingers at Riza and pointed at the suitcase still in Roy's death grip. "I'm your new teacher. I am to be called Master Hawkeye."

When Roy wrote back to Madame Christmas a couple of days later, he would describe his first day under the tutelage of Master Hawkeye as simply bizarre. Nothing bad per say. It was more of an 'interesting' bizarre. Master Hawkeye's way of teaching was definitely different than what his old school masters had attempted to get through to him. He wrote on how he was settling down very well and the strange antics of his new master would be taking some getting used to, but he was able to manage with his goal set in mind.

However, he wouldn't mention the strange relationship between father and daughter. How he had noticed this small girl quiver whenever she was in the same room with him or how the father's voice rose in volume when speaking to her as if threatening her. He didn't give much mind to it; the girl was barely allowed to speak to him. But he would think about her. He wasn't ignorant of her existence like his master.

It wasn't until the end of the letter that Madame pointed out a passage to her old friend that their little liaison was doing his job.

'…_As it turns out, Master Hawkeye has a daughter named, Riza. She doesn't seem that particularly interested with her father's work or any alchemy for that matter. But she did help out a lot with meals and cleaning before she went back to her boarding school…'_

Grumman rubbed his thumb over the smeared ink (a certain name in particular) and felt his eye begin to collect tears. It was only a few sentences, but it was the closest he had ever come to knowing anything about his granddaughter.

Madame's heart nearly broke when he barely gasped, "Riza."

…

_~six years later~_

Roy gave a long sigh and watched his little puff of breath disappear into the cool air of midwinter. He was already dreaming of when the season would change to a warmer atmosphere and tilts the world closer to the fiery sun. Fiery. Fire. Roy pushed onward up the hill to the Hawkeye estate with a more confident stride and swung his bag over his shoulder like a knapsack of stolen goods.

He was getting close. The house was in his eyesight, but his mind was set on buttering up his old master for what he had been striving for years to learn; Flame alchemy. To have power over one of the purest of the four elements, and it was just within his reach. It was the ultimate technique and rumored to be one of the most powerful forms of alchemy ever constructed by mere humans. And it was said that his Master was perfecting this alchemic power.

When he had told General Grumman about this, the older man sent off his younger friend a parchment of wisdom. _"If you obtain this power, don't use it for yourself. Use it to help other people."_ He had assured the general that this was his overall plan in all honesty. He held onto his young naïve dream of how State Alchemists were for the people. And by the people, the Alchemist would serve to help make the world a better place. It was silly of him, he knew, to hold onto that kind of idealism. But he wanted to hold onto that a bit longer for himself. After all, if it was evidently seen by his master then maybe he _would_ share his wealth of knowledge of Flame Alchemy. Roy pressed on and felt relieved when his heavy snow boots beat against the creaking wood of the old stoop. And even better, the sun finally came out from behind the clouds making the surrounding snowy landscape glow a golden hue.

Roy dusted himself and pulled the scarf from around his neck. How else could he describe this feeling of foreboding come over him? It was like this day's calming aura was an omen for what fortune Roy would find during the next couple of months he would finish up his lessons under Master Hawkeye.

He quickly twisted the knob and let the warm air wash over him like an ocean wave, feeling his fingertips and ears overheat with the escalated temperature. He called out across the dark foyer and was only answered with an echo of his own voice. He should've expected as much, he wasn't supposed to arrive until the next day. His driven anxiety made him early; he would have to wait for his master.

"Mr. Mustang, you have to close the door. Heat is very expensive." Recognizing the voice, Roy turned his head to the stairs and smiled at the descending figure down the stairs.

Had Roy come any other day, he might've not noticed this. The bright sunlight that filtered through the frosty windowpanes suddenly filled up every corner of the dark foyer making the laminated wood gleam an unearthly glow. Had it been any other day where the clouds were overcast and stubbornly held the world in winter, Roy might've never noticed how the light perfectly hit and livened the woman slowly making her way down the stairs. The light wouldn't have caught his attention and wouldn't give him a reason to stare. But it did. And it made Riza look so beautiful.

She spoke again but Roy couldn't hear it, until he realized that the light that had caught this young girl, who had just reached a sweet sixteen, was spilling from the open door where his grip tightened at the sight of her.

Embarrassed, he shut the door and turned back to Riza. The light was still with her. She looked down at him quizzically, "is something the matter?"

"Umm yes…I mean-no!" He stood at the bottom of the step, red faced and avoiding eye contact, while Riza looked down at him with a novel in her hand and finding it more difficult with figuring out Mr. Mustang's sudden rift of behavior.

In later years, Roy Mustang would be reluctant to tell this story of how he first fell for Riza Hawkeye. It sounded romantic enough to be bragged about, but the fact of him acting like a blubbering idiot in front of this girl made him disinclined to share it with anyone. Riza, however, didn't feel the same way. She loved that story. And when she realized that was his first moment of actually seeing her for the first time, she realized it was around the same time she had felt the same way too.

It was during the holiday break, and she partook in one of her rare visits home to help around the house while her father and his student worked relentlessly behind closed doors. But it was also a short while before she went back to school where Roy Mustang, for the first time, started sharing longer conversations with her rather than short questions or requests for anything from the kitchen.

It was nice.

She started feeling herself warming up to him for the first time since he came pretentiously knocking on the front door. They spent more and more time together whenever they could (without the strict Master Hawkeye knowing, it might've come off as a stark distraction from Roy's studies).

This also gave way for Roy to not only just write about his alchemy studies, but to also put into more detail about this mysterious quiet girl to Madame. Who instantly shared the info with Grumman.

With every new letter delivered, Grumman felt a long line tethered to his grandchild. He should've realized that with every new letter there was evidence of Roy growing closer to her as well.

…..

Between her stubby fingers the crisp paper felt stale and slowly moistened by the suffocating summer air. Some of the words written in ink were smeared and seeped through the paper but Madame was able to read the chicken scratch.

_Dear Madame Christmas,_

_ All goes well here living with the Hawkeyes. Master has become more attentive to me in my studies and has promised me by the end of the season (if I keep up my hard work) that I can progress past all the textbooks and just do fieldwork. Of course, as you well know, he has promised me that last year too. So don't expect much, but I will try to work harder, don't you worry. _

_Do you remember Master Hawkeye's daughter, Riza? Well apparently she is staying with us this summer which almost seems to never happen. Her studies are about to finish up soon in less than a year, but she hasn't mentioned once what she wants to do for her future. Maybe this summer she can spend time at home and think about what she wants to do, something I've been doing myself for a while. I haven't even mentioned yet to master my intentions of joining the military and helping the people. He's told me on numerous occasions how he detests the military, so probably never. _

_And as for Riza, I probably would have better luck than her. She and her father are on different wavelengths and hardly ever speak to one another even when they are in the same room. It's a shame on how little Master spends time with Riza, but I do know that he cares for her. He only wants what's best for his daughter. _

_Until next time Madame,_

_Roy_

_P.S. Made use of your birthday gift, thank you._

Madame took a short drag from her cigarette and only had to flick her wrist to the right and Grumman had the letter in his hands within seconds. He read and reread the letter and regrettably crinkled the edges with his tight grip. His eyes filtered the words and only focused in on what Roy had to say about Riza. His brow twitched in irritation while Madame amusingly watched his mustache muffle while he read under his breath.

'She doesn't get along with her father? How very much like her mother.'

"He sent more than just that letter by the way."

Grumman glanced up but immediately retreated his eyes back to the paper, "oh?"

"Yes, a stack of photos."

Grumman flinched, she had his full attention.

"He's finally made use of that camera I got him for his birthday, of course it took him long enough to actually put some good use into it." She thumbed through a small envelope that had come with the letter until she pulled out a single photo.

"Of course only one of them I think could be salvageable to you," she was holding up a small square between her two fingers and held an all-knowing smile on her lips. Without making any movement to just hand the parchment over, Grumman made the short trek across the floor and held out his hand like a child expecting to be given candy. Madame obliged and Grumman felt his breath catch in his throat.

A girl, no more than fifteen, was standing by a doorway with her hair cropped short and a uniform skirt ending above her knee. She was looking at the person taking the photo like they were just sharing a conversation. No artificial smile or set up pose that most women made in magazines. It was all natural and simple. Beautiful without meaning to or with any effort.

His sweet Riza looked past him through the glossy and all was right with the world.

…

_~Five months later~_

Something was off. He just couldn't quite put his finger on it just yet.

Roy had just returned from Central to the Hawkeye estate after a two week vacation granted by his master. Roy had a general idea as to why he was given this free time. Riza had just returned from boarding school and was spending a short time at home. His master had given him leave not five minutes after she had arrived home.

"Go home and spend time with your family," he said. Master Hawkeye's attention was diverted from Roy who was seated across from him and more towards his daughter, who was making tea off to the side, looked up at his master with a quizzical expression.

"What about my studies? Your lessons," his arms motioned to the mountain of books he was assigned to research this week, he was already nursing a headache that always came with his master's assignments.

"That _won't_ matter," he said cryptically. "Go home. Come back in a couple of weeks." His master's gaze was transfixed onto Riza who averted her own eyes when she entered the room with a tray. Riza's moment of discomfort was not lost on Roy. But disobeying orders from his master was out of the question. He was only to be out of the estate for a couple of weeks.

So he did wait. He waited exactly two weeks. That basically defined "a couple."

But when he twisted the brass knob to the old creaking manor, Roy knew something felt a bit off. Two weeks was probably too long. The house, which was always wide and spacious, had always felt a bit cold and empty. And it was not because it lacked furniture or that the heat was only used during well past midwinter. It felt dank and murky; a small scent twitched his nose uncomfortably as he moved around the house.

"Hello?" His voice might as well have been calling out during a hurricane. At least maybe then some life form would answer him. He tried again, a couple of times, until he heard a small shift in the floorboards one story above him. His instinct sought out to investigate, feeling anxiety grow in the pit of his stomach.

"Hello? Is anybody up here?"

Roy reached the final step up and investigated where he thought he heard the source of the sound, he was surprised when his perked ears had lead him to Riza's room.

In later years, he would recall this moment like a nightmare. Something he would never write to Grumman, or even Madame. It would tear deep into his soul for years to come, but he didn't even know it yet as he let the door swing open to the musty pink room. For now, he just saw a limp form draped under a thin sheet with her head buried into the softness of her pillow. Thinking she was asleep he slowly backed away but creaked the floorboards with his slow steady steps despite his efforts. The foreign sound made Riza lift a glassy eye from her pillow to the intruder.

"Oh I'm sorry, Riza, I didn't mean to wake you."

She mumbled something that Roy couldn't understand so she lifted her head a bit making her face grimace from pain. "Don't worry, I wasn't asleep."

"Oh"

"mmhmm"

She let her head fall back onto her pillowcase but strained her eyes like she needed to wear glasses at her father's apprentice. "You're back." It was a statement but subtle relief was traced in her words.

"I am, but I'm sorry are you sick?" He walked across the floor and noticed sweat trailing down her features. She visibly flinched away from him when Roy drew closer, a motion that she usually did when her father was close by, he retreated his own hand only to level for her comfort. As standoffish as she first appeared, Riza Hawkeye was not one to pull away from somebody like Roy. They had known each other for years now and had kept each other company during some of Master Hawkeye's bursts of rage. So saying Roy felt a bit hurt after Riza pulling away from him was an understatement.

Then he noticed the blood.

Little pinpricks of wet ruby mapped out in random patterns.

"Riza, what happened?"

Underneath the thin blue sheet that covered Riza up to the nape of her neck, tiny red stars glistened through the fabric. She physically flinched at his words and pulled the sheet over her nose without making eye contact before squeezing them shut and hiking a choked breath. Evidently she was in pain, it was all Roy could do but hover a comforting hand over her shoulder.

"Riza…"

"Mr. Mustang," her eyes met his from her half-turned face. The look that she gave him shot agony through his gut. For all of the years he had stayed at the Hawkeye estate, he had never known young Riza, beautiful Riza Hawkeye, to bat an eyelash the way her father treated her. And now Roy was staring into those usual stoic brown eyes glisten with unshed tears.

She turned away from him, "You should go to the study, Father is waiting for you."

She made a small hiccup and that was it. Roy pulled up a chair, planting himself by the headboard and crossed his arms in defiance. He could simply ask what had happened. He could easily pull the sheet back, see what that monster did to his own flesh and blood, and kill him with his bare hands. But he knew better. He knew Riza Hawkeye. So he stayed there, rooted in place, unable to find the idea of leaving her side bearable.

He had mentioned before in letters to Madame that he had always found the Hawkeyes to be full of pride to a fault. Master Hawkeye had refused to use his research in the military, even though they could've easily given him money to further his research and pull him and Riza out of this teetering edge of poverty they were living in the deteriorating mansion. Riza was just as bad. She would refuse Roy's offers in helping around the house or in the kitchen. Insisting that she walk alone to the town and buying and carrying the groceries on her own. Refusing to cry whenever her father shoved her to a wall. Biting her lip when he towered over her and demanded she leave him alone and not to be troubled with any trifled matters.

When he asked her about this on how it possibly bothered her, she gracefully shook off the question and moved on.

Roy would never get any answers from her, even with him prodding questions about the sporadic blood stains glittering on her bedspread.

"He's not home. I'm staying here."

She dropped her eyes and hid her face even further under the sheet. Stubborn indeed, she would not show her looks of relief, knowing he was close by.

She did spare him a glance after a few minutes, enough to show Roy a spark behind her eyes. It wasn't sadness or self-pity that emitted from her brown irises. It was gratitude. It was a shining good deed done for her in this dark world. Roy let his hand trail across her pillow and brushed her bangs away from her forehead.

He couldn't leave her now.

In a week, Roy would write a letter to Madame about his arrival. It mostly consisted of him talking about the "illness" Riza had. He would write about the hours he stayed with her and on what books he read to keep her company. Despite his master insisting to leave his daughter alone and to go over his studies, Roy found the time for Riza. She eventually got better, but curiously was unable to walk right and had to shuffle around the house stiffly like a brace was locked to her back.

Grumman read over the letter and sent a silent prayer of thanks to any higher power up there that sent Roy Mustang to represent him when his granddaughter needed help the most.

…

_One year later…_

In a moment never to be recorded in a letter, Roy witnesses a personal hell.

It was shown to him as it was always depicted in paintings, stories, and glimpses of wars fought; a fiery void with no hope. No small comforts to hold a person up from the rapid evil swirling around that sucked the life from one's lungs.

At least, that's how it felt, as her shirt fell in a crumpled heap to the ground.

And all he saw was hell.

Barebacked and shaking, from the cold or embarrassment was lost on him, Riza stood her ground pressing her arms to her chest for some small amount of decency.

Roy felt a rage he had never felt before swell up in his ears. There were no words to describe what he felt. All respect of his deceased master dissipated in only a matter of seconds. A newfound rage anchored itself to his core, it was going to take more than blood and sweat to keep his composure in front of his master's newly orphaned child.

But then she turned her neck.

She looked at him over the shoulder and stared with glistening eyes that matched exactly to the same expression she gave him while she was in bed rest not too long ago. Roy silently cursed himself for being an idiot not realizing sooner what really restricted her to bed.

She looked at him, and repeated those words she said in front of her father's tombstone.

"That dream of yours…can I entrust my back onto it?"

His master…

His own daughter!

Her back…

"Mr. Mustang?"

Everything happened so quickly. He only took three long strides across the floor before he embraced her back to his front. She flinched and gave a small struggle from his hold, not being used to his physical contact wrapping around her. When was the last time somebody even hugged her like that he wondered. She eventually succumbed to his embrace and surrendered the damn building up behind the walls.

While she stood there crying, Roy squeezed his hold even tighter around her. The only thing separating them was red ink. It danced around her skin displaying an array that Roy had worked years trying to prove that he earned the right to know the art and use it for the good of the people. He wanted to be helpful with his alchemy. Just like the stories Grumman told him about; the one with the State Alchemists. But the price he paid in hours of long studies was nothing compared to the permanent etchings on her skin.

Even in death, the hold her father had on her was never really gone.

Miles away, Grumman would sip tea and think about stopping by Madame's the next day to see if there was an awaiting letter with news of Riza for him. He would never get a letter. Never catch wind of what really was happening to Riza. His only grandchild. His ignorance would forever be his bliss.

Roy felt vomit threatening to rise the entire time he studied the array.

Instead of writing a letter to Grumman, he dedicated his pen to cracking the code that his master left Riza. When he wanted to stop, Riza pressed on.

"It's to help people." _Your Dream._

…..

A whistle blew behind him signifying the eleven o'clock was already preparing to leave the station. Even so, Roy could not find it within himself to leave her behind. Riza looked up at him with her hands clamping tightly to an umbrella. "Your train is leaving, Mr. Mustang." He nodded not processing her words.

When would he see her again?

For years, Roy had arrived and departed from this train station with one goal in mind; master flame alchemy. Now he was leaving, probably for good, now that his goal was written in his notes (Only after promising to burn it for Riza's sake). He probably would not return to this town. Only for the sole purpose of seeing Riza could bring him back here. Although, knowing her, she would most likely make a fresh start somewhere else. A place far away from the horrible memories of this place etched into her mind.

_Etched…_

He heard another whistle for the passengers to be on board and mustered all of his courage to hug her one last time. In his arms, she stood rigid like an icicle. But, awkwardly at first, her arms lifted and pressed Roy even further into her, allowing Roy to breathe in the natural scent of her hair.

"I promise," he rubbed his hand over her shoulders where coded ink rested under a thin cotton sweater. "I will make our dream a reality."

_Our Dream._

They shared the same goal now.

He left her there and waved from his seat on the train as it moved out of the station. He looked back for as long as he could, holding on to that final image of Riza Hawkeye like a treasured photograph. She didn't hold up a hand or blow kisses like all of the other sweethearts left at the station. She just stood there with her arms crossed suppressing a chill that racked her body despite the summer air. She looked out after him, never staggering in his gaze until the train station was a speck of dust left behind him.

…

"Well good evening Madame, how are we this evening?" Grumman swung the door to the bar feeling fresh and peppy. He finished his paperwork early and was expecting Roy to come in that day to give more news about Riza. Granted, it was the only motivation that helped him pull through the mountain stack of papers (probably not even done correctly seeing as how he just skimmed a few lines then signed), but it was a good ruse to keep him driven. Anything for his little girl.

Madame didn't acknowledge him. Not even when he pulled up a stool and planted himself down right in front of her. Her eyes were skimming a folded sheet of paper, lowly murmuring its writing under her breath while scrunching her eyebrows together.

"What's up buttercup?" He tapped the paper lightly with his finger earning him a glare from Madame before returning to the letter. Not feeling completely spurned by Madame as of yet, he bubbled over his anxiety on waiting for word from Roy. How he had raced to the bar and probably cut off some unsuspecting cars and probably earned him a few curses and thus being flipped off.

Madame finally put down the paper and pressed her eyes into her hand. Grumman felt uneasy, like static electricity coursing up and down his blood. "What's wrong?"

She puffed smoke and bluntly delivered, "Roy wrote to me. He's not coming."

"What?"

"Here," she handed the letter over to him and rested her head back into her hand. Grumman already felt the sweat build up in his palms as he squinted his eyes behind his bifocals to read the words clearer. It left him speechless.

_Dear Madame,_

_ I'm sorry not to deliver any good news for you this time. Master Hawkeye has died. Apparently he was a lot sicker than I thought. We buried him last week, a small service with just me and Riza along with the local pastor. It was small and simple, something he would've preferred, I'm sure. I hope you don't mind but I used some of the money that was supposed to go to him teaching me was used for the funeral expenses. The rest was left to Riza to give her a fresh start._

_And that's another thing, Riza has disappeared._

_I stayed with her for as long as I could before I was supposed to go back to the academy, and I did give her all my information if she ever needs my help, but a week after she left I received word from the town mayor asking if I wanted anything from the house before it was going to be auctioned off. I told him I already had enough from that place and that he should just give the rest to Riza, but then he told me that she had disappeared without a trace. _

_She's a strong girl, I know, I've lived with her long enough to realize that she can take care of herself better than most adults. But I am still worried. One of the numbers I gave her was to the bar so if you hear anything please let me know. And I am sorry again, Madame, but I will not be returning home anytime soon. Not until I pass the exam. I've made too many promises to stop even for a minute. _

_Please send my love to the girls and let General Grumman know that I am taking the State Alchemist exams soon._

_Sincerely,_

_Roy Mustang_

Grumman felt his surrounding heighten. He could feel a cool breeze from the front entrance opening and closing, the smooth wood glazing his wrists propped up to give the letter he held a better light. Madame stood across the bar from him, waiting for a reaction. She felt a little unsettled when she wasn't able to read his face. This man could lose at poker every time because of how he twisted his features whenever he got a good hand, but for the life of her Madame couldn't read him like she was born blind. The only evidence of life was how his hand trembled the letter.

Finally unable to take the silence, Madame tried, "Grumman?"

Quiet.

"Grumman."

He looked up at her with blank eyes. Not fully understanding why she was standing across from him. He smiled bitterly and looked back at the letter before stifling a laugh. "And what is so funny?" Grumman looks back up and waves a hand in the air, "everything. The whole irony of life. Everything seems to come full circle."

Madame raised an eyebrow, "I'm not following." It didn't bother her that Grumman had laughed at his son-in-law's death or that his granddaughter had disappeared without a word. She always knew he was weird and eccentric. It probably put her off a bit more that her adopted son showed more concern in a written message over Riza than Grumman did at a burlesque bar, but she overlooked it for now.

Grumman laughed and slammed his palm against the bar. "Don't you see?" He started beating the bar like a drum, trying to contain his laughter. "I don't," she put bluntly.

Grumman stifled his laughter into a cough before responding, producing tears that leaked at the corners of his eyes. When he finally settled he held the letter up next to his face and pointed at it, "she is definitely family."

"Was that a doubt before?"

"Oh no. No, no, no, not at all." The letter fell from his hand like a leaf holding onto the paradise days of summer but falling victim to a crisp autumn. "She's exactly like her mother," the words passed his smile but fell bitterly from his lips. "She's out there somewhere, starting a whole new life for herself. A world I'm not included in. Not even Roy."

Grumman glanced up while Madame extinguished a still usable cigarette; her only sign of understanding and concern. "She's out there, alone, without a family or anybody I would know that she can turn to. She is too much like her mother, this really shouldn't surprise me."

Madame looked at her friend that suddenly transformed into an old man within one visit of her bar. Despite the years they had known each other, she still didn't understand him. Probably never will.

"She'll be alright, you'll see," he snapped his fingers for a drink before resting his head in his hand and making small circles with the other. "She is her mother's daughter. She'll make her place in this world yet."

…

_~One week~_

The library served its purpose of quiet solitude. The stillness of the building almost hummed with the outside traffic desperate to get home to their families but the inside was absolute silence, save for the rickety wheels of a cart pushed around to find a home for the clustered books. The librarian had felt gravity pull down her eyelids hours ago and the coffee wasn't helping. All she wanted to do was get everything done and just go home. The goal was set in her mind to find a place for every book in the cart before the place closed in fifteen minutes.

But of course, because of her luck or some karma set to give her some justice gave her one final obstacle hiding under a blonde bob. "Excuse me, miss?" The blonde turned their head and produced a pretty face with brown eyes, evidently tired from long hours working the books. She looked pretty young at first, but it was the face that threw her off. It looked a lot older than it actually should've been. Not that there were any wrinkles or crow's-feet, but there was a mature aura emitting from this little girl. The girl's face almost distracted the librarian enough to not notice the cadet uniform she was wearing. So she was a student at the military academy then?

"It's almost closing time. Please check out what you need and exit in the front."

The girl gave a small nod and stood, stacking the books one at a time satisfying the librarian before she moved along with her cart. The girl looked after the librarian while stacking the books. When the rusty screeches of worn wheels drifted away, she returned to her book that she dog-eared before continuing to read. She had no intention of checking things out. She wasn't leaving anytime soon.

Not yet at least.

Earlier that day, her professors had given a boatload of assignments due for the following week. She had started hours ago working on her papers, trying to find the best way to word her reports and follow certain guidelines when writing down her research. However, she didn't have to do the assignments. There was no need. In less than a week they were shipping her off to Ishbal. She was going to the battlefront as a sniper, only a year shy from graduation. Her professors gave her the assignments without knowing this and rather going up then embarrassing them she kept her head down and began her work. Besides, it gave her enough distraction from what lay ahead of her.

About an hour ago the girl had taken a break from her studies. For a little fun, she started looking up people she knew and had met over the years. She tried her best to avoid her father's name. The sting of his final deed still bit into her skin.

Eventually, she looked her own name up. It was set up before her like a simple report; a name, birthdate, hometown, education, blood type, and parents. The girl glanced over the names of her father and mother feeling incredibly empty. She felt like if someone were to press their ear over where her heart should've been, they might hear the ocean instead.

Her eyes fell onto her mother's name, someone she couldn't match a face to; _Rianna Hawkeye nee Grumman (deceased)._

Grumman?

She had heard that name before.

It was at that moment the librarian had decided to show up and shoo her away before investigating further. When the librarian had left her alone at last, the girls nimble fingers flashed desperately across the pages before she found the page again. When her eyes settled on Rianna's again, it lead her to another page where more information was given about this woman who was always a ghost to the girl.

It was all right there. In a simple parchment in a library, miles away from her home, the girl had found more information about her mother then years of fishing small facts from her own father. Where her mother was born, her mother's education, her mother's blood type, and even her mother's parents.

_Margery Grumman nee Cook (deceased)_

_General Alexander Grumman (active)_

"General Alexander Grumman." The name passed her lips disturbing the silent aura of the library, even giving a light echo. Riza Hawkeye ran her finger across the name and felt silly embarrassment burn her cheeks.

He was right there, with her, in East City. And she didn't even know. The fall out of her parents with their own families was a lifelong fact that had isolated her from having a real family. Her grandfather probably didn't even know she existed.

Her grandfather?

Riza had a grandfather.

…..

_~Present~_

With all of the strength that he could muster, General Alexander Grumman turned his neck towards the hand clasped in his wrinkled fingers and gave a short rusty cough and smile. "…hmmm…Riza…"

Riza gave her grandfather a comforting squeeze, "I'm right here, Grandfather." He closed his eyes at those words and smiled. She _was_ right there, right there with him. In another lifetime, he probably would never have this kind of bliss. Now laying on his deathbed, all of his collected memories that have lead him up to this moment with him and his family swept through his mind like a tidal wave. Especially about his loving granddaughter, Riza.

It was not too long after the end of the Ishbalan Rebellion, a tall yet petite woman requested an audience with him in his office. He allowed it of course, not bothering to look up from his chess set and the thought of a pretty girl wanting to see him intrigued his interests. At the time he was playing chess against himself, an old trick that he had picked up over the years that kept his old mind in tune with the fast-progressing world around him. The first thing he saw was boots clicking the heels together for attention. When he raised his gaze towards her and blinked twice before realizing who it was, he felt the ground disappear beneath his feet.

"Riza Hawkeye, reporting for duty, sir." She saluted him and the chair fell to the floor as Grumman stood. She stayed in her position saluting him while he just stared at her. Just stared. It was enough to make Riza feel uncomfortable and make her falter in her stance a bit. It became awkward as they just stared at each other. One of them waiting for a signal from her superior, while the other was waiting for a signal in his brain to register an action.

At last one word was uttered, "Riza." At her name mentioned, she visibly flinched and Grumman realized his fault at leaving her hanging, "at ease."

Her hand fell to her side but continued to stare at her grandfather while he stared back. All of those years Roy had sent letters about Riza, talking about her, giving hints to a few of her quirks, how she was living, it never prepared him for meeting her face-to-face. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton and something inside took control and shook him.

Protocol be damned.

He strode forward and encircled his arms around her shoulders before she even realized what was happening. She stiffened in his hold, unsure of what to do. Nobody had held her like this. Not since Mr. Mustang had seen what her father had done to her back, nobody had touched her like this.

"My sweet Riza," his voice was muffled by slow moving tears. "I've waited so long for this." Tears pricked Riza's own eyes at his broken voice; she began returning the embrace feeling a stone wall crumble around her icy fortress.

They held each other like that for a while. No words were passed, just a small union of lost souls that searched for missing pieces and finally at ease with each other's presence. Grumman felt his heart hammer in his ears and beat against his chest. Gaily, he realized that Riza's heart was hammering against his chest as well.

It was all too real, and all too perfect.

"Oh my sweet Riza, you're finally here. I was so worried. And somehow I knew I'd see you."

Riza didn't answer. She just tightened her embrace, breathing heavily.

They eventually broke their embrace; they could only stay in silence for so long with each other. So they sat down after he offered a cup of tea and began to talk. For hours they talked. Riza told him everything Roy didn't include in his letters. How she grew up taking care of herself and didn't exactly get along with her own father.

She did skip over important details, to spare her grandfather, about the strange alchemic markings on her back. She shifted from time to time to feel the bandages where Roy used Flame Alchemy to erase what he could to free her. She almost felt like she could fly.

However, Riza did tell him that for the last couple of years she had been studying at the military academy and was even a sniper at Ishbal. Grumman gasped at this but she held her hand up to him trying to reassure him that she was alright and got out "mostly" unscathed.

Grumman could not believe his ears. Beside the fact that she was in that infernal war, she was so close by that she was right under his nose the entire time. How absurd!

She even mentioned Roy Mustang, especially on how he used Flame Alchemy in the war; her father's research. Grumman shook that fact off. He knew it was do or die in the battlefield. "Roy Boy had to do whatever it took to survive," he uttered under his breath. This did not get past Riza.

"Roy Boy? Do you know him, Sir?" He was caught completely off guard, "umm…yes, I do." He mentally slapped himself for that slip, "knew him since he was a young boy. And, Riza darling, please call me Grandfather."

Riza crossed her arms, "how did you know him?"

Even on his deathbed, Grumman could still remember feeling the air turn to ice at those few simple words. It was at that time he finally confessed, to everything. He told her how he was forbidden for ever seeing Riza and her mother, even banned from his own daughter's funeral. He confessed that he and Madame Christmas had sent Roy out to not only learn alchemy but to also keep on eye on Riza. He admitted on waiting around for letters sent by Roy (who he admitted had no idea about this plan) and that he kept a few treasure pictures of her on his desk. When he showed her one in particular framed in gold and dubbed "his favorite" Riza took the frame and held it in her lap.

A long time ago, Roy had taken a picture of this camera-shy girl and sent it to family who loved her.

Unable to read her face, Grumman waited. He didn't know what to expect from her. A fiery outburst on how he kept a private eye on her without ever going to see her, or maybe she would become emotional and burst into tears. He didn't think he could handle either, but Riza finally looked up at him with a smile.

"You were the one who sent Major Mustang." Not understanding, Grumman just nodded. She continued, "I always thought it was strange of Father to just take on a random student." She shook her head and looked down at the picture stroking her thumb across her shy young face. Grumman didn't realize that a simple thanks would suffice for sending Roy Mustang to her. All of those lonely years of childhood couldn't hold a match to the comforting presence Mustang had in her world.

And her grandfather had sent him, in order to connect to her. Her heart almost felt too whole, she thought it might break. "I have a request, Sir…I mean, Grandfather."

She asked him then if he could assign her to serve under Mustang. She wanted to make sure that he made it to his dream; to help people. He confessed to that optimistic idea long ago in front of her parents' tombstones, it almost seemed lost in Ishbal but she knew that with an extra push she could get him there.

Grumman remembered hearing her wish to stay with Mustang and couldn't feel any happier. Back then, it meant that she would be close by to him. Sure, she would endanger her life by staying in the military but that little spark Rianna had in her was mirrored in Riza's own brown eyes. She would never turn away from her duties.

So he agreed.

There were conditions, of course. Riza didn't want to show off that she was getting special treatment by a superior officer because of family relations. So to the public, he was just called "General Grumman, Sir," while in private he was simply called, "Grandfather." He relished in that title. But Riza was also to have dinner with him in his mansion at least once a week.

In later years Roy would eventually join in with these meals (once their relationship got more serious), Grumman smiled inwardly at the memory when Roy found out Riza's relationship with Grumman. The image of his eyes bugging out and his mouth hanging open would always remain a happy memory to Grumman.

"How could I not know?" He practically shouted while Riza stood beside him hiding a smirk behind the glass she was drinking. When he looked at Grumman he was hiding his own smirk but gave a playful wink at his protégé. "How did I _not _know?"

"Calm down, Roy," she placed a hand on his shoulder. "You helped him find me."

Grumman committed to memory on how Roy boy looked down at his sweet Riza.

Roy and Riza eventually got married. Of course they waited well after Grumman was out of office as Fuhrer and Roy became his replacement. It was high time they did too; he didn't want to die before seeing any of his great-grandchildren.

He was grateful enough to even have met just one; sweet little Rosie.

Grumman recalled how Roy handed over the small bundle like a Faberge Egg nestled in pink cotton blanket and crowned with dark messy hair. She was so frighteningly tiny back then, he was almost afraid that she would break. But when she opened her small brown eyes, and Grumman saw that same spark Rianna and Riza shared, a boundless spur of love took control of him.

He was glad to have been a part of her life, even only for a few years.

Rosie was presently held against her mother's chest by her free arm while the other was stroking smoothly across his knuckles. Roy stood behind their chair and rubbed his own hand across his wife's left shoulder. The adults looked grim-faced while the young toddler was lightly cooing.

Grumman's thoughts drifted towards that night at Christmas' bar, where he slammed a glass down and sparked the first step towards his future with Riza. He would always be indebted to Madame. He had said so when she was on her own deathbed, years ago, coughing up her lungs and demanding for a stiffer drink than just water.

"What are friends for," she had said to him.

Both of them had stood proud at their children's wedding, silently winking at each other how this was all indirectly set up by them. During the reception, while the guests danced, Grumman and Madame shared a drink. Privately, off to the side, giving a congratulatory toast to each other over their loyalty and life-long friendship. It went beyond words on how grateful Grumman really was to Madame. It was all because of her that he was even blessed with this opportunity to be surrounded by his loved ones before he died.

He would have to thank her again in the next world.

Now that he was on the teetering edge of his own life with his family beside him he couldn't thank his old friend enough. There were no words to describe the absolute joy he felt. Forget what mysterious beyond waited for him after death, forget the regrets that harbored in his mind and festered inside his heart; he was happy. Truly happy.

Blissful silence wrapped around Alexander Grumman like a blanket.

He could barely feel Riza's strong hold on him anymore.

Yet he would never leave her.

* * *

**Well there you have it! I've been leaving and going back to this story for a while, and after reading the other reviews from 'Promise,' I just had to finish this project. So there you go (hint hint) I love getting reviews!**


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